


Private Dancer

by the_nvisiblegirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, F/F, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nvisiblegirl/pseuds/the_nvisiblegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan was a lot of things. An orphan, a lesbian, a lover of leather jackets, and a proud owner of a 1971 VW Bug. She was ambitious, stubborn, and headstrong. For about half a year already now, she was also a stripper. | After that first dance, Regina came back every week, sometimes even biweekly, and always specifically requested Emma, who, at some point, even started to look forward to seeing the other woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Dancer

Emma Swan was a lot of things. An orphan, a lesbian, a lover of leather jackets, and a proud owner of a 1971 VW Bug. She was ambitious, stubborn, and headstrong. For about half a year already now, she was also a stripper.

When she had first moved to New York City from her last group home back in Boston to make it big time, she wouldn’t have thought she would end up in a strip club, dancing on poles and giving lap dances to rich old men, but here she was.

She had never had ridiculous dreams about being a singer, or an actress, or a model, she had—except for that short phase at the age of thirteen where she had wanted to be a professional wrestler for some reason—always wanted to be a doctor. However, it turned out that going to university cost about an arm and a leg, and living in New York wasn’t cheap either.

It had started with flipping burgers at McDonald’s, then she had done some waitressing, until one day she had met Ruby, who had told her about her profitable part time job. Coincidentally, Emma had turned out to be a natural, and since the job didn’t involve getting completely naked or having sex with people (and also paid the bills tenfold), she had taken it.

Today was Saturday, the club’s busiest day, and Emma was just taking some dollar bills out of the sides of her string, when Ruby approached her.

“Your next one is room two. Regina Mills,” she said, red lips forming into a mischievous grin.

She was wearing a pair of hot pants that barely deserved to be called pants (and which she also liked to wear in her spare time outside of the club), there were a few red streaks in her long, brown hair, and her boobs were almost falling out of her tiny glitter bikini top.

Actually, she was a really pretty girl, and Emma had been crushing on her a little when they'd first met, all the make up, however, hid the beautiful face a little too well.

“Wait… what? A woman? But women aren’t even allowed in here,” Emma tried to argue, once she had realized what Ruby had actually said.

The policy at this club was rather strict, so, normally, the bouncer rejected every woman that tried to get inside without beating about the bush.

“Try to tell that to Regina Mills. There’s no arguing with that woman.”

Ruby sank onto one of the chairs in the little backstage area they occupied between acts, and popped part of a Bounty into her mouth, shrugging.

“But…”

“She's this really big thing on Wall Street or whatever, and also friends with Granny or something. Plus, you’re the gay one, so I don’t get what your problem is here,” Ruby explained matter-of-factly.

The brunette had all but _smelled_ Emma's gayness from the second they'd met, she liked to brag on a regular basis (which was ridiculous, because, if anything, Emma was super femme with an unfortunate love for cars and guy boots, but whatever).

“It’s not… I don’t…” the blonde stuttered, unable to come up with a snarky reply. Ruby’s line of argument even made some kind of sense. Maybe.

“Listen, that woman might be the Evil Queen herself, but she is really fucking hot, smells like unicorn farts, and tips like there’s no tomorrow. You can only win,” the younger one concluded, before she grabbed Emma's arm and pushed her toward the door.

 

“Hi, I’m Destiny,” Emma said, and inwardly cringed about her horribly ridiculous stage name.

“I don’t care what your fake stripper name is; less talking, more dancing,” came the icy reply, and Emma had to hold back a groan. This was going to be as much fun as Jesus had had on Good Friday.

The woman looked impeccable, though: tight, black pencil skirt, white button-up that was too far unbuttoned to still be considered suitable for work. Ruby hadn’t been lying, obviously—with both the brunette being super hot, and super bitchy.

“Anything in particular you want me to do?”

It wasn't her style, normally, to ask the client what they wanted. But, _normally_ , the client wasn't a woman, and an incredibly gorgeous one at that, so why not try to make a good impression.

Why a woman like that even went to a strip club was beyond Emma, anyway, because the brunette could probably have anyone she ever wanted with a move of her little finger.

“Just surprise me. I’ll intervene if necessary.” The brunette offered a tight smile that did not even remotely reach her eyes, and Emma just rolled her own, before she turned on the small stereo.

Turning around to face the other woman again, she put on her most seductive smile. However, judging by the brunette’s look, she wasn’t buying it. Well, whatever.

Not losing any time, she purposefully strode toward Regina and came to a halt between the other woman’s parted thighs, putting one of her hands on each of them. Slowly, she lowered down her upper body, which gave the brunette a good look down Emma’s cleavage, before she halted with her face only inches from the brunette’s.

She could feel the other woman’s breath on her face—a nice change from the disgusting old dudes she regularly had to dance for—and her eyes travelled down to blood red lips, which Regina seductively wetted with her tongue. God, this was hot, Emma thought, and quickly turned around, before she could do something stupid.

 

After that first dance, Regina came back every week, sometimes even biweekly, and always specifically requested Emma, who, at some point, even started to look forward to seeing the other woman.

It really was true what Ruby had said all those weeks ago: the brunette was a true babe, Emma had to admit, and though she behaved like a stuck up bitch most of the time, she was still a hell of a lot more pleasant than any other dude Emma had ever had to dance for.

Emma was fascinated by those big, brown eyes that stared up at her in wonder, the delicate, always perfectly manicured fingers, which grabbed her ass with just the right mixture of firmness and care, and the full, perfectly lipsticked lips, which were often slightly parted, as if ready to be kissed.

Yes, there was a lot of sexual tension in the room when Emma was dancing for the brunette, and, if she was completely honest, a few times already her traitorous mind had thought about the possibility of just taking the other woman right on that goddamn chair.

 

It was a Friday night almost three months after Regina’s first visit to the strip club, and Emma was sitting on the couch in her little studio apartment—complete in sweat pants, no make up, and hair in a messy bun—trying to do some of her reading, but failing miserably, because _The Bachelor_ on tv was far more interesting.

They were just having a group date riding camels in the Sahara or something equally ridiculous—she was secretly rooting for the brunette one, because she was the only one who wasn’t a complete bimbo—when there was a knock at the door, which caused Emma to almost spill the beer she was nursing all over herself.

Praying it wasn’t her crazy, clingy ex again—because that woman was a serious pain in her ass—she put the bottle on the small table in front of the couch, before she made her way over to the door.

Once she opened it, however, she couldn't believe her eyes. In front of her, in a beige trench coat and black high heels, was the second biggest pain in her ass—the one and only Regina Mills.

“How do you know where I live?”

“I have my sources,” the brunette all but purred, a smile on her lips that Emma couldn't describe with any other word than seductive. O _kay_?

“I’m not a hooker, you know,” the blonde declared, just in case Regina was planning what Emma thought she might be planning.

Did she mind Regina showing up at her doorstep on a lazy Friday night looking all gorgeous and sexy? Not really. Did she mind the woman being a presumptuous bitch? Hell yes, she did.

Just because she was a stripper didn't mean she was a complete slut—no offense to any woman who voluntarily worked as a prostitute to make a living (you go girls!). She didn't have sex with any of the guys she danced for, because yuck, she barely even let them touch her, but she wasn't really sure if that was because she was Kinsey 6 gay, or because she couldn't handle intimacy very well; a little bit of both, probably.

“Who said I was gonna pay you for finally giving me what your eyes have promised for the past weeks, Miss Swan?”

The brunette was still smiling her predatory smile, and, despite her foul mood, the words shot straight to Emma's core. _Fuck_.

“I didn’t…” Emma started, but the words died in her throat when Regina slowly unbuttoned her trench coat, and let it fall to the ground in one swift motion.

She was completely naked.

“Do you really want to waste time discussing insignificant details when we both know that, in the end, you’re gonna have your mouth on my cunt anyway?”

For a second, Emma just stood there, mouth agape, and not exactly sure if the other woman had actually just said what the blonde thought she had heard.

Then, Regina’s lips were on her mouth, Regina’s hands on her ass, and one of Regina’s legs was pressing against her crotch.

This was definitely not how Emma had expected her night to go.

Within less than a minute, Emma’s shirt had joined the trench coat on the floor, and her now naked breasts (because, seriously, who wears a bra when home alone on a Friday night) were flush against Regina’s. God, it felt amazing.

A tangle of limbs, they stumbled toward the couch, but didn’t get past the much closer kitchen table, against which Regina pressed Emma, until the blonde awkwardly heaved herself up.

Without much ado, Regina reached into the blonde’s pants, too impatient to pull them down properly. Emma hissed when the older woman’s slender fingers made contact with her wet center. It was almost embarrassing how ridiculously aroused she was already, but, looking at Regina, who could blame her, really.

When two fingers entered her, and a hot mouth latched onto her right breast, Emma groaned in pleasure. Her brain hadn’t really processed what was happening yet, but she didn’t care if this made sense or not, anyway, because this was most probably the hottest woman she had ever banged.

Slowly, Regina’s lips traveled down the blonde’s torso, until her face was in between strong thighs. Before she made contact, however, she looked up, meeting Emma’s gaze, wicked smile on her lips.

“I hope you don’t have chlamydia, dear,” she said, offering a pert wink; then her tongue found the blonde’s clit.

 

“I don’t know anything about you,” Emma said quietly, voice still hoarse after her last, scream-accompanied orgasm.

They were lying on a huge bed in an expensive hotel Regina had paid for with her black American Express. The brunette’s arm was lazily draped around Emma’s torso, her head on the younger woman’s chest. It looked almost domestic, except it wasn’t.

They had been doing this—having a lot of mind-blowing sex in a lot of different places (on Emma’s couch, on Emma’s bed, against basically every wall in Emma’s apartment, in a Starbucks bathroom on West 42nd Street, in the backseat of Regina’s Mercedes, on the big glass desk in Regina’s office, you name it)—for a few weeks already, but, apart from the occasional “more,” “harder,” or “fuck me,” they never actually spoke to each other.

While it was a little weird (maybe; or was it practice to have long, existential talks with your fuck buddy?), it didn’t really bother Emma. Well, okay, sometimes it did. She liked to talk to people, get to know them (fall in love and then completely screw up). Yes, she knew every curve, dip, and sensitive spot on the other woman’s body, but she didn’t even know her middle name. She knew nothing, except for the fact that Regina had a shitload of money, at least judging by all the different designer handbags, her brand new Mercedes convertible, and the hotel rooms they were regularly screaming each other’s names in.

“Because this is sex. You don’t need to know my tragic backstory to have me make you cum all over the place,” Regina said, a little hint of annoyance in her voice, while she moved her arm away from Emma’s side and instead down to the blonde’s still wet center.

“But…”

The brunette’s hand instantly retreated and she sat up on her knees, looking down at Emma.

“Look, I am not looking for a relationship, or whatever touchy-feely bullshit is playing out in that cute blonde head of yours right now. I need the release, and judging from the three orgasms you had in the last twenty minutes, you do too. So either we continue enjoying this little thing we have, or I am going to leave right now, find another willing girl who doesn't talk as much, and you will never see me again.”

For a tense moment, the two women just stared at each other, neither willing to back down, before Emma quickly shifted her position, so she was on eye level with Regina, and, without any warning, buried three fingers knuckle deep in the other woman.

The brunette groaned, a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure, and Emma smirked.

Still relentlessly pumping in and out of the other woman in a steady rhythm, she leaned down so Regina was lying on the bed again, using her teeth to attack a perfect breast.

She was sure it would leave a few ugly purple marks, but she didn't really care. Their sex had never exactly been gentle, and right now, she hated the other woman with a burning passion. She wanted to hurt her, take vengeance for being treated like a stupid little child.

There was one thing she hated more than anything else, and that was being patronized.

Under her, Regina’s body jerked uncontrollably, and just from looking at her, Emma knew she was close.

They had slept with each other more times than Emma could keep track of already, but she did not want to stop. As bitchy and coldhearted as the other woman might be, she was also a really, _really_ good lay, and the orgasms the brunette regularly gave her were probably the most intense ones she had ever had in her life.

She just needed to stop thinking, stop wondering what was behind that icy mask. Sometimes, in the moments where Regina completely came apart in pleasure, or when she, after another mind-blowing orgasm, lazily draped an arm across Emma’s waist and pulled her close, the blonde thought she could actually like the other woman, or rather the person that was hiding behind the ten feet concrete walls.

But then Regina always made another snarky comment, or reprimanded the blonde for being young and silly, and Emma wanted to slap herself for her own ridiculous wishful thinking.

 

It was a few weeks later, and they had just hooked up in Emma’s apartment for the umpteenth time, when Regina’s phone started to ring. The brunette was busy taking a shower after an hour of passionate sex, so, without much thinking, Emma reached for the black iPhone on the small desk next to the bed and accepted the call. For what she heard next, however, she hadn't been prepared in the slightest.

“Mom?” a young voice asked, and Emma almost dropped the phone. Regina had a _kid_? In her wildest dreams, Emma wouldn't have thought the Ice Queen herself was a mother; that just wasn’t Regina.

Her mind was reeling, which left her unable to say anything. She was baffled, completely and utterly surprised. This couldn't be right, this couldn't be possible. True, they had never talked about kids—well, they had never really talked about anything, to be honest—but surely Regina would have mentioned this. Right?

“Mom, are you there?” the child, apparently a boy, asked again. He sounded scared, and, for a moment, Emma was afraid Regina handled parenting like she handled her hook ups—minimal talking, no signs of emotions, no letting anyone in whatsoever. She felt sorry for the little boy.

“I… no, I’m not your mom. But I’m… with her. She’s in the bathroom right now,” Emma stuttered after a while, afraid she would startle the kid even further. He, however, seemed curious rather than afraid.

“Who are you?”

She imagined a scared little boy in a giant house, lots of toys and nannies, but without his mother.

Giving him her stripper name seemed ridiculous, so she just went with the truth. There was no harm to it anyway, she would probably never hear from him (or Regina) again after this.

“I’m Emma.”

For a second he was completely quiet, before he asked the next question.

“Are you the one mom wouldn’t tell me about? She is sneaking out all the time and leaves me with the babysitter, so I know she is secretly seeing someone. Is it you?”

God, he was smart (or there was someone else Regina was seeing on the side).

Her heart almost broke, though. He was alone, and it was, at least partly, her fault.

But what should she tell him? Nothing would be best, probably.

“Listen, kid,” Emma started, but he promptly interrupted her.

“My name is Henry.” He sounded exactly like Regina when she was reprimanding Emma, dear God.

This whole situation was so completely surreal, the blonde wanted to check the room for cameras just in case she was being seriously pranked right now.

How could this actually be happening? Regina would have mentioned a child, right? Maybe he had the wrong number, and wasn't Regina's son at all. Or maybe Regina was an even more horrible person than Emma had assumed up until now.

“Okay, Henry. Your mother and I… we…”

What exactly were they, though; what could she tell a child they were doing? Hanging out? Playing games? Banging each other's brains out? Better not.

“Do you like her?”

His voice was nonchalant, as if talking about tomorrow's weather, and in that second Emma was one hundred percent sure that this was indeed Regina's son.

“What?” she asked, trying to buy herself some time to come up with an actual answer.

 _Did_ she like the other woman? Not particularly, no. Expect for sometimes, when Regina reached for her hand, or played with her hair, or looked at her with an almost affectionate expression on her face.

“Do you like her?” he repeated, before Emma could finish her train of thought.

Little shit.

Was he trying to parent trap her, or what? It seemed possible, since he was Regina's son, and Emma sometimes imagined the brunette to be an evil mastermind in her spare time, or something.

“I don’t think that—”

This was the moment Regina—all wet hair and naked body—stepped out of the little ensuite bathroom.

“What do you think you are doing,” she demanded, once her eyes fell on Emma sitting on the bed, phone in her hand.

“Regina, I…”

“Give me the phone. _Now_ ,” Regina growled, arm outstretched. She looked furious, and Emma was afraid she was going to slap her right across the face, but instead she just ripped the device from her hand and turned around.

“Yes, sweetheart, I know.” Her voice was the complete opposite of what it had been only seconds before: soft, full of love and affection “Of course we can.” She lifted one arm to wrap it around her middle. “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, I am going to be home shortly.” She sighed. “I love you, Henry.”

The woman now standing in front of Emma talking to a little boy named Henry was completely different from the one the blonde had been with over the past months. She looked younger, freer; she looked like a genuinely nice person.

Emma would have never thought the brunette was capable of showing basic human emotions, but seeing her like this made Emma’s stomach flip. This was someone who actually had a heart.

The positive feeling, however, only lasted a second, before Regina hung up the phone, and turned toward Emma with anger prominent on her face.

“How dare you just answer my phone,” she spat at the blonde sitting on the edge of the bed, and Emma involuntarily cringed at the venom in the older woman’s voice.

Of course it had been a horrible idea. They weren’t a couple; hell, most of the time they couldn’t even stand each other.

“Look, Regina, I’m sorry, ok? I didn't think and—” Emma started, but Regina didn't let her finish.

“Well, _obviously_ you didn’t. I am not surprised.”

Her voice was pure ice.

That’s when something inside of Emma snapped; she had enough of this.

For months, Regina had lied to her. She had reprimanded, and belittled her, and finding out the other woman had a child was literally the cherry on top of the cake of complete bullshit that was their little affair.

Emma didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but she was hurt, because, mostly, if there was a kid, there was also a husband, or wife, or at least some sort of partner.

The thought of Regina being with someone else bugged her, which didn't even make sense, since she didn't like her anyway, or did she? Hell, what had she gotten herself into with this?

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked Regina dead in the eye.

“What?”

“You understood me just fine. So?”

For once, she wouldn't back down, wouldn't give in.

“I… I don’t…” Regina stuttered, all of a sudden at a loss for words.

“Because you are treating me like shit. You are treating my like some dumb little whore you can use whenever you want to, but you know what? I’m done. I’m done with your bullshit, so get the hell out of my apartment,” Emma said, voice low and dangerous.

Where this all came from all of a sudden, she wasn't completely sure; maybe she was making a mistake, but she was past the point of caring already.

“Emma, don’t be ridiculous, I…”

“No. I am done being your dirty little secret. Go back home playing happy family with your kid and husband, and just never call me again.”

Her voice was louder, too loud, probably, just a little too harsh.

If she was honest, she didn't really want to end things with Regina. True, their situation wasn't exactly ideal (far from it, actually), but it felt good. Being touched by Regina, being _desired_ by Regina, had made Emma feel better about herself than ever before. It made her feel worth something, even though Regina's comments oftentimes had the opposite effect. Good thing that the touching part definitely outweighed the talking bit.

But Regina hadn't only treated her like a child, Emma had to remind herself, she had also lied to her; she had lied to her big time.

“Emma…” the brunette tried again, but to no avail.

“You don’t even think about telling me that you have a son. A fucking son, who is like what, ten years old, and who you just leave alone to sleep around with a random chick you picked up at a strip club. Seriously, what kind of mother are you? And what about your husband? Does he at least know you’re cheating on him? Or does it not count because I’m a woman? Is it actually turning him on? God, you _disgust_ me.”

Suddenly, everything burst out of Emma; all the frustration, anger, and various other feelings that had been building up ever since the two women had first met.

“That’s not… Emma, please listen to me! _Please_!” Regina was actually crying know, and if Emma hadn’t been so angry, she would have been sorry.

All of a sudden, the brunette had lost all of her normal swagger. She was small, small, small. Submissive.

“No, Regina. It’s over. Get your stuff and just get out.”

For a moment, the brunette just stared at her in complete horror, before she sank to the floor and sobbed into her palms. It was almost scary to see the normally so cold and put-together woman like this, but Emma fought to stay strong, to not give into the urge to comfort the other woman she maybe (probably) had actual feelings for.

Quickly, before her resolve could crumble, she slipped into the ensuite bathroom and shut the door, slowing gliding down the wood until she was sitting on the cold tile floor with her bare ass, a silent tear running down her cheek.

 

The fight with Regina had been a few weeks ago already, but—even though the blonde hated to admit it—she still thought about the other woman for a ridiculously high amount of time.

This might have something to do with the fact that, at some point, she had come to a baffling conclusion; she was in love with the brunette. Yes, it was completely insane, ridiculous, and Emma didn’t know how the _hell_  it had even happened. Regina had treated her like shit, basically, but, apparently, for Emma there was no love without pain—her dating history could verify that. God, she had a serious problem.

She had just finished dancing on one of the poles in the main room, and was now sitting in the backstage area, waiting for her shift to be over.

Maybe she should quit. Everything here reminded her of Regina, which was ridiculous, because the most time they'd spent together had probably been in Emma's own apartment, so by that logic, she had to move out of there (which she would never do, of course, because it was basically impossible to find a decent, affordable place in New York).

“Room number two for you, Em,” Ruby interrupted her musings, and Emma almost jumped up from the chair.

Great, probably another old fart who was a bit too touchy for her liking; exactly what she needed to officially make this they the worst in the history of ever.

“Who is it?”

She hoped it was one of her more pleasant regulars; like August or Graham.

“I don’t know. Some dude. He’s not too revolting, though.”

Well, better than nothing.

She missed dancing for Regina, actually, even for the version of Regina that was the authentic embodiment of the Evil Queen, before they had started their affair. Because Regina smelled good, and looked good, and didn't get handsier than was appropriate. In short, Regina had respected her, at least to some extent; maybe it had been something like female solidarity or something. Well, whatever, that would never happen again anyway.

When Emma entered the room, she was just about to start her usual, half-hearted routine, when she laid eyes on the person she was supposed to dance for.

Sitting on the chair in front of her was Regina.

Speak of the devil.

She tensed, unable to move, although she just wanted to run for the hills. How could Regina even dare to show up here again after all the shit she had pulled (and how could Ruby dare to trick her into this)?

The brunette seemed to know that as well, because, instantly, she started to go in for damage control.

“Please, don’t leave again. Just hear me out. Please.”

It was weird, seeing the other woman again after all that had happened between them, and, especially, after the realization Emma had had.

Regina looked different than before; her hair was borderline messy, she wasn't in her usual professional attire, but rather wearing blue jeans and a simple shirt, and she was almost completely make up free. She looked beautiful, Emma hated to admit.

But the blonde had to be strong, she had to resist, had to prevent herself from getting hurt again. Emma knew that, if Regina begged enough, she would give the other woman (almost) everything she wanted, which was dangerous, especially when it was Emma's heart that was on the line.

So instead of giving in right away, like she wanted to do, because, even after all that had happened, she apparently couldn't get away from Regina, she tried to channel the few drama club meetings she'd gone to back in high school.

“I told you, I’m through with this. I don’t care what you have to say.”

It sounded almost convincing. _Almost_.

“Please, Emma, I can’t… just listen to me. I’ll pay you double. Triple. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars, I don’t care, just listen to me.”

Regina's voice was hoarse, so she had probably been crying, Emma figured. Why did the brunette have to make this so hard on both of them?

“You have five minutes.” Emma was still desperately trying to hold up her indifferent act, which was ridiculous, because all she actually wanted was to be close to Regina again.

She had always been so, so careful not to get too attached to other people, but had never really succeeded, especially not when it came to the brunette, obviously.

But because Regina was still Regina, and she had lied to her, and treated her like shit, she needed to stay strong for once.

“I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t… I didn't want it to end like that. Well, actually, I didn’t want it to end at all. Yes, I do have a son; Henry. He is eleven years old, and I adopted him when he was still a baby. I have always been a single mother, and it’s hard, especially when you have a demanding job, no friends, no one to share with. My parents died before I had my son, and my half-sister hates me, so it’s just me. It has always been just me, but I was fine with it, I was fine with raising Henry alone, and closing myself off, and building walls higher than the Empire State Building, so no one could possibly hurt me. And then I met you.”

Emma didn't want to hear all this, didn't want to know that Regina had actual human emotions as well, because that would make it even harder to put an end to all this.

“First, I wanted it to be just sex. I needed the release, you were really good at reading me and giving me exactly what I needed without having to say it. I didn’t plan on making it official or anything, but I also didn’t intend to cause you grief. I don’t see you as my dirty little secret, and I know you’re not stupid, Emma. You are such a beautiful, talented, smart woman, and at some point I just…”

The brunette was at a loss for words after her monologue, and Emma was only seconds away from throwing herself into the other woman's arms to her that they would be okay, that she forgave her.

“You just what, Regina? Get to the point.” The blonde's voice had lost a lot of its original venom, because, apparently, Regina knew exactly which buttons to push outside of bed as well to get the response she wanted.

There she was again, the manipulative, selfish woman, who just wanted to get things her way, Emma was sure of it.

“I… I think I’m falling in love with you,” Regina finally all but mumbled, and took her eyes away from Emma's face, onto her hands, which were nervously fidgeting before her.

Emma, in turn, was completely flabbergasted.

“ _What_?”

Whatever she had been expecting (and she didn’t even know what that had been), this definitely wasn’t it.

For a second, Emma’s heart stopped, before it nearly jumped out of her chest. This couldn’t actually be happening, Regina had to be joking. Probably, she just wanted her fuck buddy back, and had somehow read the blonde’s mind to know what exactly would work.

They didn’t even know each other, for God’s sake, they didn’t even _like_ each other. Right?

Yeah, okay, Emma did like the other woman, at least when she was not being a complete and utter bitch (which was basically never). When she had heard Regina talk to her son on the phone, when she had actually gotten a look at the human being beneath that indifferent steel mask the older woman was so desperately trying to hold in place, the person behind the walls she had built around herself, with emotions, hopes, and desires, that had been it.

It wasn’t like Emma didn’t know those coping mechanisms (because that's what they were); after all, she was a pro at closing herself off and tricking people into thinking she was different from the person she actually was.

She had her own walls, her own coping mechanisms so she wouldn’t fall apart. Could, in the end, she and Regina have a lot more in common than they both knew?

She was broken, scarred from years of rejection and loneliness, and she was ninety nine percent sure the same applied to Regina.

“I’m sorry. I know this is inappropriate, and uncalled for, and I didn’t even want to tell you. But Henry wouldn’t stop talking about you, and I… I just thought you should know.”

She looked so, _so_ incredibly defeated, it made Emma's heart ache. How could she ever actually believe she would get over Regina Mills? Holy shrimp, she was such an idiot.

“And now I am going to get off your back, and you never have to see me again. Goodbye, Emma. Have a great life, you deserve it,” Regina said calmly, a sad smile on her lips, before she got up and slowly made her way to the door.

For a moment, she stopped right in front of Emma, and, after a second of hesitation, she lifted her hand to carefully put it on the other woman's cheek.

"I'm sorry, darling."

She looked the blonde directly in the eyes, as if asking for permission, and then she leaned in, bringing her lips to the other woman's.

 

Emma just stood there, rooted to the spot, even after Regina was long gone already. Just staring into nothingness, she didn't even realize that Ruby entered the room, beaming with joy.

“What the hell happened in here? She just gave me five thousand fucking dollars, and said I should keep the change.”

“She’s in love with me,” Emma mumbled, carefully lifting a hand to touch her lips, onto which the other woman had just pressed her own.

“What? Speak up, I don’t understand you.”

“She said she’s falling in love with me,” Emma repeated absentmindedly, still not able to wrap her head around what had happened.

“What? Holy _shit_ , Emma,” Ruby almost screamed, and punched Emma's arm a bit harder than was probably necessary.

“But if she just told you she’s in love with you, why are you still standing here like a complete idiot?”

That was when it dawned on her.

“Oh my God…”

Jesus _Fernando_ Christ, she was such a fucking moron sometimes.

Not caring that she was still in her stripper gear, or that it was freezing, she ran out of the club and onto the street, desperately looking right and left for a head of dark brown hair, like a character in all those stupid rom-coms she secretly liked to watch.

“Regina! _Regina_!”

 _Of course_ it was raining, thank you very much, as she ran up and down the street (oh how she hated high heels), no Regina in sight. Shit.

Because she didn't know where Regina lived, because they had never been to her place, and she didn't have time to find out, she went to the only place she knew the brunette had to turn up sooner or later: her office.

They had had sex there in Regina's lunch break quite a few times, which was why, at some point, she had ordered her employees to always let Emma inside, no questions asked, and, apparently, she hadn't repealed that statement yet, because the petite, red haired assistant just gave her a polite smile when the blonde made her way to Regina's office.

Regina wasn't there—of course she wasn’t—but Emma had time, so she sat down in the desk chair, where she had thoroughly eaten the brunette out on more than one occasion, she wistfully remembered.

Her gaze fell on a photo on the big glass desk she had never seen before: Regina with a not-so-little-anymore little boy in her arms. _Henry_.

It must have been summer, because they were both wearing swimwear, and the sun was shining like crazy. They looked happy; _Regina_ looked happy.

Her smile, a sincere smile that reached her eyes, looked breathtaking, and Emma reached for the picture to take a closer look.

 

Emma didn't know how long she had been waiting already, but at some point she could hear voices outside, and she straightened in the chair, anxious what would happen next.

No second later, the door actually opened, and the blonde held her breath. It was Regina.

“And don’t forget to forward me those—” Regina instructed her assistant over her shoulder, a stack of files already in her hand, before she saw the woman sitting in her chair, and the stack of papers fell out of her hands. “Emma.”

“Hi,” Emma simply said, giving an awkward half-wave. Wow, way to go, Swan.

“What are you doing here?” Regina asked, carefully closing the door behind her. She didn't even bother picking the papers up from where they were scattered all over the floor.

“I’m an idiot,” Emma replied flatly, getting out of the chair to stand straight.

Regina frowned, obviously confused by the blonde's sudden appearance in her office.

“I already told you that I don’t think you’re stupid. I saw the books on your desk, I know you’re in med school,” the brunette explained. She was downright staring at Emma opposite her, as if she was afraid the other woman would resolve into thin air the next moment.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what _did_ you mean?”

Apparently she had gathered back some courage, since she was stepping closer toward the desk, and, consequently, toward Emma.

“I’m an idiot because I just let the woman I love leave without stopping her.”

Regina halted in her movement and gaped at the blonde, before her lips turned into a hesitant smile.

“You… you what?”

“I didn’t say it was you,” Emma continued, because she was an asshole at heart, and, after all that had happened, Regina kinda deserved to suffer a bit longer.

“Oh," she breathed, and visibly deflated.

“You are presumptuous, mean, and bossy." Emma took a few more steps toward the other woman, until they were about a foot apart. "And I love you.”

Regina's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I love you, too,” she said with the biggest, truest smile Emma had ever seen on the other woman's face.

As fast as possible, she closed the gap between them, and their mouths found each other in an urgent kiss.


End file.
